


Plain Gold Ring

by replicasex



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Drama, M/M, Past Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/replicasex/pseuds/replicasex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles meet during a pack reunion after years apart.  Stiles has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plain Gold Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Kimbra's excellent song 'Plain Gold Ring'. Listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6i1mr9amqeg

Everyone’s here.

It’s their little joke, a parody of a high school reunion. Hopefully there’s less blood this time. Even the Argent girl travels from San Francisco with Scott, round belly showing. Isaac is the only pack who stayed with him. He doesn’t know why, exactly, except for the fact that Isaac didn’t have anything else, no one to turn to. Derek still tastes bile sometimes.

But he’s repaired their relationship and Isaac has a family, a real family now. A wife and chubby little son. They’re so cute it’s sickening. Derek avoids diaper duty like a champ. Derek doesn’t think about Erica and Boyd. There’s an empty space on his couch for them, wolfsbane flowers carefully laid.

The McCalls get there first and Scott surprises him with a hug. It’s huge and loving and Derek is relieved to know none of the past has tainted their cultivated friendship. He ruffles Scott’s hair, just to be a dick.

“Hey,” And Scott still has that teenage eagerness, the puppy dog eyes. It’s honestly great to see him.

Allison greets him. Warmly, if not lovingly. They will never be the greatest of friends. He asks about the baby, even though he hates them. He’s caught up in sonograms and Scott’s comical terror when the front door opens again, a familiar honey scent in the air.

Scott jumps up and runs, arms open and laughing already. The two figures embrace. Hard, the way only separation forces. Scott detaches and Derek scents the air again. It’s him. It’s Stiles.

It’s the first thing he notices about him, impossible to miss. Fat and dull, just the way gold is after love and wear. It’s snugly fit. It belongs. It’s a narrow band, not flashy. He can even smell it, how long it’s been a part of Stiles’ body. His finger all the evidence Derek needs. It’s been years and years. Happy ones, judging by the lines around Stiles’ mouth. His lips are still dark and wet.

On his finger sits a plain gold ring.

Stiles had emailed him back a month before. He’d gotten the address off of Scott, knew it’s the best way to contact him. It had been too long for Derek to trust his voice.

What had Derek thought? Stiles had replied with “Dear sourwolf” and Derek’s heart clenched, the old ache. Relieved now of the guilt, the association. Stiles was a man now, grown. Nothing teenage would remain, of course it wouldn’t. He could -- he could.

But Stiles is standing in his house, the same careful honeyed scent winding through his body. Now mixed. Derek can smell it on him, his partner. A man. Healthy, large. The extent of his senses.

A faceless man had swallowed Stiles up in his scent. It was all over him.

Derek’s eyes flashed across the house. He wasn’t here, then. Hadn’t accompanied Stiles, maybe. Hard to explain. There were children here, shifting with impunity. Stiles was always so careful with the things he loved.  

*

Derek knows he has to. There isn’t any way around it and Stiles would force it on his own. Too social and worried for his own good. Derek resolves to end it quickly. He approaches Stiles and his mind shudders, throwing purple. He feels crazed, the lights stretching. He is singularly unprepared for this.

Stiles hugs him, because he had always been tactile. Had always been big with affection, large with the love of those around him. Derek carefully peels them apart.

“Derek,” And Stiles’ voice is lower than he remembers, a little pitched down. It’s still soft. Stiles doesn’t smoke. All his moles remain, dotting his face. He looks impossibly young, he has that kind of face. His hair longer now but not unkempt. Short enough to be fashionable. He looks fantastic. “I found that old hoodie of mine, put it in a trunk somewhere. Went through all my old stuff.” Stiles’ hands cut the air, tiny vibrations. He’s as animated as ever, his eyes lit up. “It didn’t fit.”

And Stiles pouts exactly the same, folded velvet. It’s distracting.

Stiles looks around the house. Smiles bright and large and wild, an image of himself at 18. “The house is great,” Stiles is saying. “You have a pack.” And this is lower, the don’t-nose whisper of pleading silence. “I’m glad. I worried, you know. Scott said I was crazy, that you’d be fine, but.” Stiles still worries his lips with his teeth, his tongue.

“I don’t think he ever got it, you know? Pack.” Derek knows. Scott has made his peace but he has not learned to love his condition. He doesn’t know the full moon bright of a pack of wolves running through the forest. Derek thinks maybe Stiles does. He’d used to run with them, after all. Clambering and slow and human, he had run with wolves, went wild. He had it in him, Derek knew, to make a beautiful wolf.

“Thanks.” Derek says. And he can’t help himself, can’t stop it, doesn’t want to. “You’re married.” He manages to make it sound only mostly like a question.

“Yeah.” And the softness in Stiles’ face will kill him. Every second of this is a dagger in his chest. It’s the same sound Stiles had made once, under him. Just once. The only time Derek had asked for what he wanted in seven years.

He fucked it up. Had ruined it. Turned it to ash, the fine cheekbones and boyish cheeks. He hadn’t been capable of it back then. He hadn’t been enough.

Stiles is staring at him and Stiles knows Derek, sometimes better than he knows himself. He knows now, Derek thinks. Watching Stiles’ eyes widen. Knows he doesn’t feel differently, the same way he felt the day Stiles left.

Derek hadn’t even shown up to say goodbye. Had stolen all of Stiles sheets after that, had holed himself up in his loft then and wept from the loss of it. Derek didn’t know what he had been thinking, inviting Stiles. It was the worst possible decision.

And he hates Stiles’ understanding more than anything, the sympathy. Stiles isn’t conventionally kind but he hoards love and whatsoever loves him back is his forever, a permanence that had frightened Derek.

“I”m happy for you,” His voice is tight. He’s lying. Stiles just stares and stares. His hand darts out, long fingers around his wrist.

“Come on,” Stiles says, voice low and angry.  


End file.
